


Shereshoy

by volsung



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: (that tag is a rite of passage in this fandom), Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Slow Burn, boba fett is flustered and gay, darth vader is a show off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volsung/pseuds/volsung
Summary: Shereshoy: a lust for life and much more - uniquely Mandalorian word, meaning the enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it.or, Fett has a crush. A dangerous crush.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This rarepair is killing me. There isn't quite enough darthfett content out there, so here is my contribution. Enjoy!
> 
> (this is my first real smut fic. be gentle)

The _ISD Devastator_ was a sight to behold. Even from this distance, Boba Fett couldn’t see the whole ship through the viewport of his own _Slave I_. It loomed over his tiny ship like a great dark cloud, illuminated from the left by the sun of this system. Fett reduced his speed and waited to be hailed.

 

It didn’t take long. He’d come out of hyperspace perhaps closer than he should have. But he hadn’t been shot down yet. His contact knew he was coming – he’d given Fett a timeframe in which to show up, and Fett was comfortably within that limit. Not too early, but not late enough to be an annoyance.

 

His comm beeped, and Fett pushed a gloved finger to the receiver.

 

“ _Firespray-31-class_ Slave I, _please state your business and transmit authorisation code now_.”

 

Fett cleared his throat and leaned in to reply. “Boba Fett here on a delivery. Authorisation 12-34-79. Requesting main hangar access.”

 

There was a brief silence, then the person on the other end spoke again; “Slave I _, stay your current course and wait for hangar access.”_

In no time at all Fett watched the hangar doors open for him, and he carefully manoeuvred the _Slave I_ into the _Devastator_ ’s belly. Landing complete, he retrieved his cargo, lowered the boarding ramp, and stepped outside.

 

The hangar was relatively empty, notably devoid of the one person he’d been anxious to see. He pushed his cargo – a corpse in a stasis capsule – to the side, and held himself as poised as possible while he waited.

 

He was almost considering having a smoke, almost, when he heard footsteps approaching. A squadron of stormtroopers entered the hangar and positioned themselves in clean, straight lines in front of Fett’s ship. Their armour was pristine, identical, unremarkable. Fett knew there was little chance of any of them being clones, but still he stiffened at the sight of them. But he stood to attention and, a moment later, his contact finally arrived.

 

Lord Darth Vader made his way through the two rows of troops, dark cape fluttering behind him, each of his breaths carefully regulated and very loud in the silence of the hangar. The first thing Fett noticed about him was how incredibly tall he was. He was wide, too, much wider than the holos made him look. Fett held his chin higher, determined not to appear intimidated.

 

“Boba Fett.” Vader acknowledged, and the deep baritone of his voice vibrated through the air. “I see your hunt was successful.”

 

“Yes my Lord.” Fett replied, hoping that was the correct way to address him. He hadn’t bothered to find out beforehand.

 

But the man made no comment, instead stepping around Fett to examine the bounty. “Yes,” he said with his hands on his hips. “That will do.” He inspected the capsule from both sides, humming.

 

“Quite unusual that you needed the body.” Fett remarked, watching the Dark Lord carefully. Killing the target with minimal damage to his body had been the terms of his contract, and Fett had managed to negotiate a higher price for that. He was sure the Empire could afford it.

 

“You are not being paid to make inane observations.” Vader said, though he sounded more bored than annoyed. He then gestured for two troopers to take the body away, and turned back to Fett.

 

“It is to your satisfaction then?”

 

“It is.” Vader nodded minutely. “Now for the matter of your payment.”

 

Another trooper stepped forward, this one carrying a large crate in their hands. They handed it to Fett, who wasted no time opening it. He counted the credits quickly and was pleased to find 20.000 credits, as had been agreed upon. He shut the crate and lowered it at his feet.

 

“Very good.” He said after a long moment, in which Vader himself said nothing. The man was considering him, standing still as a statue, the only indication that he was alive the sound of his breathing mechanism.

 

“You performed admirably, as your reputation suggested.” Vader said then, and Fett was surprised at the easy praise. “Next time I have need of your talents, I shall contact you directly.”

 

“Your people have my comm?”

 

“They do.”

 

“Alright then.”

 

“Be on your way now, bounty hunter.” Vader tilted his helmet forwards, looking directly into his eyes. Fett couldn’t see the man’s eyes any more than Vader could see him, but still he felt like he met his gaze anyway. He fought back a shiver.

 

Not knowing what else to say, he managed a ‘Thank you’, lifted his reward from off the floor, and boarded his ship.

 

He was at least a mile away from the Devastator before he let his guard down. Just the memory of Vader staring him down from his imposing height was enough to send another shiver through his body, one he didn’t resist. It wasn’t quite a shiver of fear.

 

He didn’t want to think on that too hard, so he put the Dark Lord out of his mind, blasted off into hyperspace, and checked his list for his next contact’s location.

.

.

.

.

It was months before he heard from Darth Vader again.

 

His reward money was put to good use; Fett had been in dire want of a new long-range rifle, and he always needed fuel and upgrades for the _Slave I_. He returned to smaller gigs for a while, but that suited him just fine. Fett was not a greedy man, and for him, the reward had always been secondary to the thrill of the chase. He had enough work to keep him busy, and he was starting to make quite a name for himself, especially in the Outer Rim.

 

Before, he’d been counting on what remained of his father’s reputation, but for a few years now he’d been earning his own repute through his dedication and professionalism.

 

It was after a particularly tiring job, and covered in mud, that Fett returned to the _Slave I_ , collapsed in his bunk and started taking his messages. There were the usual contract offers, countless small jobs with small rewards to match. But he wasn’t that desperate yet. He continued to scroll, looking for something more engaging.

 

One message caught his eye, and he sat up in his bunk suddenly. _Well, well, a missive from the Dark Lord himself._ Even the subject line was encoded. He smirked and ran the decryption key Vader’s people had given him.

 

It was a bounty for a pair of Imperial defectors, and a rather high one at that. Former ISB agents, it seemed. It was straightforward enough, Fett thought, more so than his first job for Vader had been. He read through the stack of transmissions included in the message, intercepted from the traitors, and hummed. He could make out a trail to follow already.

 

He’d been aching for a good night’s sleep, but somehow he didn’t want to keep the Dark Lord waiting. After inputting the coordinates and blasting away into hyperspace, Fett set about cleaning his armour and jumpsuit. Any other client and he might not care, but for some reason he didn’t feel like facing Vader whilst covered in dirt from head to toe. Nothing unusual about that, surely. It just made him smart that’s all.

.

.

.

.

The contract had been as straightforward as it appeared. Both targets were now incapacitated, bound together with their mouths taped. They’d been hiding out in a run-down bunker on a remote moon. Most likely it was not their final destination. From their communications, Fett could tell they had been planning to join up with a small group of rebels.

 

He’d already sent a message to Lord Vader to let him know he had them, and now searched the couple for any concealed weapons. He found only a datapad and, curious, he turned it on.

 

From what he could tell as he skimmed through, it was chock full of top-secret Imperial documents, names of other ISB agents, and details about underground projects and operations. He knew he should stop reading now, but he it was interesting to say the least, and he had nothing else to do.

 

It was almost an hour before he heard something approaching. He ducked out of the bunker and looked up at the Lambda-class shuttle descending from the atmosphere. Staying in the doorway to keep an eye on the traitor couple, he waited patiently for Vader’s arrival.

 

The shuttle touched down a small distance from the bunker and, accompanied by two troopers, Darth Vader started marching towards him. Fett allowed himself a good long look at the Dark Lord, staring at his shiny black armour and the curious flashing console on his chest.

 

“Boba Fett.” Vader said, and Fett stepped out of his way so he could enter. Vader had to bend quite low to fit through the doorway. The two rebels tied together in the centre of the room moaned and struggled at the sight of him. “Good work.” The Dark Lord said.

 

“They have stolen documents.” Fett told him, handing him the datapad.

 

Vader looked through it silently for a minute before stashing it away somewhere in his robes. “It has been decided that you will both be publicly executed.” He stepped towards the rebels. “That is the fate of any who betrays the Empire.”

 

Fett could see only resignation in the two rebel’s eyes. Vader apparently decided he had nothing more to say to them, and he ordered the two stormtroopers to cut the bindings on their legs and help them up. Their little group then left the bunker in direction of Vader’s shuttle.

 

“Where is your ship, bounty hunter?”

 

“Ah, just over that ridge.” Fett answered, gesturing to the hills in the distance.

 

Vader emitted a strange sound in response, like a hum or a cough.

 

They had almost reached the shuttle, when Vader paused. He turned on his heel and looked back towards the bunker. “Rebels.” He said, and when Fett glanced over his shoulder he could see a land vehicle approaching. No doubt it was the band of rebels their two traitors had been planning to meet. It gained speed as it went and, once in range, opened fire on them. The shots were precise, aimed towards Vader.

 

The Dark Lord started walking towards the rebels and brandished his fabled lightsaber. Fett watched as he deflected each and every shot, even returning some of the vehicle’s fire back to it. The two stormtroopers behind them opened fire as well, but their shots had no effect on the vehicle.

 

Never one to stand idly by while a battle was going on, Fett drew one of his own weapons; it wasn’t the one with the longest range, but it packed a serious punch. He aimed at the assault vehicle’s wheels and in no time at all it came to a halt. Seconds later rebels emerged from within and continued firing at Vader.

 

It was downright mesmerising to watch: Vader advanced on them like a predator, repelling their fire, and never faltering. He might as well have been an armoured tank, for all the good the rebel’s blasters were doing.

 

But he was only one man and who knew how long his luck could hold. Fett rushed forth, aimed a few shots, and managed to get two rebels right in the head. He quickly reached Vader and stood beside him as he fired his next shots. Vader didn’t react to his presence, and rather threw out an arm in front of him. One rebel, who had been running towards them, was lifted clean off the ground. The man held his hands to his neck, struggling in mid air, and when Vader closed his fist, he went limp and fell.

 

Fett watched Vader, breathless, as he gave the same treatment to another rebel and simultaneously cut another down with his lightsaber. He was so entranced he barely registered one rebel trying to sneak up on Vader from behind. Vader turned and swung his weapon, but the man managed to avoid the blade.

 

Quick as a flash Fett fired on the man, and blasted a hole through him. The rebel fell to his knees with a gasp, and once he was down, Fett saw that Vader was now covered in thick, arterial blood. It glistened in the sunlight, splotched haphazardly over his mask and torso.

 

Vader remained in that spot, broke the neck of one final rebel without looking, and deactivated his lightsaber. He looked straight at Fett all the while, but said nothing.

 

Fett put his blaster away slowly, breathing hard. His mind was blank and the moment seemed to last an entire minute as he stared at the Dark Lord. There was something appealing about his masked faced painted in blood; and the sight of the bodies littered around him, most of them cut into several pieces with guts and brain leaking into the sand, was enticing. The thought that they had done that _together_ was all the more so.

 

“There was no need for you to intervene, bounty hunter.” Vader’s voice snapped Fett out of his distracted thoughts.

 

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun.” Fett answered casually. He finally tore his eyes away from Vader and looked at the two stormtroopers. They had been no help at all, but no surprise there. The rebels were still bound together and standing just behind the troopers, looking nothing short of terrified.

 

With a smirk hidden behind his helmet, Fett turned back to watch Vader, who was still standing in the same spot. He addressed him; “I have your payment on board the shuttle. Then, you will be on your way.”

 

“Of course.” Fett replied, allowing himself to stare some more. They said Vader could read minds, but he couldn’t help but linger on the bloodstains, thinking about how striking the Dark Lord looked. He wondered if Vader could tell he was staring at all.

 

But the moment passed. Vader walked past him towards the shuttle and his stormtroopers hurried along too, with the rebels in tow. Fett waited patiently for him to return, and when he did it was with the reward in hand. 25.000 this time.

 

Satisfied, Fett nodded to him and watched while his shuttle took off and left the moon. It disappeared into the atmosphere, and then Fett breathed deep. He took one last look at the mess they had made. No doubt Vader would send his people down to clean up the area.

 

Back on board his own ship, Fett counted the credits again and tried to decide what he wanted to do with them. Maybe it was time for a break. He knew a nice resort in a system not too far away. He sure could use a day or two to unwind.

 

It was only once he lay down on his bunk much later that his mind returned to that afternoon’s events. It had been a more exciting hunt than anticipated, but that was almost always a good thing. And it certainly had been this time. He remembered the carnage, the smell of death, the blood coating Darth Vader’s armour, his black, soulless eye sockets, and felt heat rise to his face.

 

 _Kriff_ , what had he gotten himself into.

 

He rolled over in the bunk, tried to put it out of his mind, and slept.

.

.

.

.

The next time they ran into each other hadn’t been planned. Fett was on an unrelated hunt, chasing a target for Jabba the Hutt. This time the client wanted the target dead, so Fett was loitering on a cliff side, waiting for the man in question to emerge from the building on the opposite end of the ravine. The man was a gambler down on his luck who had stolen a ship from Jabba to get out of paying him back. Fett was to kill the man and recover the ship.

 

It had been hours since Fett scoped out the place and got into position. From what he could tell this building was an Imperial base of some kind. Perhaps a science lab or something of the sort. The man being an Imperial would make things extra tricky – Fett had to make this quiet.

 

He’d chosen his newest long-range rifle for the job, equipped with a silencer.

 

An unexpected noise took him by surprise and he looked away from the entrance of the building to see a small shuttle descending from the sky. It landed on the platform that stretched out on the edge of the cliff, steam releasing in clouds as the landing ramp was lowered. First, some stormtroopers came out, and then followed, _Darth Vader_.

 

“What…” Fett picked his rifle back up and looked through the scope, zooming in on Vader after making sure the security was indeed still on. The Dark Lord stalked the length of the platform towards the building, his cape billowing in the heavy wind. The stormtroopers followed until he reached it, and stationed themselves around the door.

 

Watching Vader disappear through the entrance of the building, Fett wondered at the reason for his arrival. It could be that he was just here for business or inspection, or something like that. Fett didn’t know whether or not Vader did that sort of thing.

 

He soon got his answer, though.

 

Smoke rose from the back of the structure, black as night. Moments later Vader emerged from the building, his lightsaber drawn. He stopped a distance away, turned, and watched as the flames started consuming the place. Then, an explosion shook the building. And another. Rocks crumbled from the cliff around Fett and he held onto the edge to keep himself on his feet. Vader then put away his weapon, and pointed towards the ships already parked on the platform. Fett could see the troopers were doing something to them. Were those explosives?

 

In a panic, Fett swung his rifle onto his back and jumped from the cliff, activating his jetpack. The ravine was wide, and he was too slow. He was just landing when the ships exploded in controlled detonations, falling apart without too much debris flying everywhere.

 

Vader turned to look at him, hands on his hips, and breathing steadily. If he was surprised to see him, Fett had no way of knowing.

 

“Lord Vader.” He said, keeping his tone calm. “With respect, what are you doing here?”

 

“That is restricted,” Vader replied. “And I would ask you the same question, bounty hunter.” It didn’t sound like a question, more of a threat.

 

“I’m on a job. I was after a man in that building.”

 

“He is dead.”

 

Fett sighed. “That was my kill.”

 

“Regrettable.” Vader said. He didn’t sound sorry at all. He turned and made to walk away, but Fett wasn’t finished.

 

“There’s another thing.”

 

Vader paused, but kept his back turned.

 

“Part of my contract was to retrieve one of those ships your men just blew up. So.” He trailed off uneasily, watching the back of Vader’s head.

 

“So.” Vader repeated, turning back around.

 

“Yeah.” Fett said. “My client won’t be happy about that.”

 

“And you think this concerns me because –?”

 

Fett ground his teeth together. “I thought you an honourable man.” He admitted.

 

Vader looked at him in silence for several seconds. Fett had no idea what he was thinking.

 

“I am a Sith.” He finally said, tiredly. Then he turned on his heel again and walked back to his shuttle, stormtroopers tailing behind him obediently.

 

Fett could only stand there and stare as the Dark Lord boarded his shuttle and left, leaving a heap of destruction in his wake.

 

Another small explosion from the building behind him made Fett jump.

 

Jabba the Hutt was going to kill him, or rather, hire someone to do it for him.

 

Fett was sure he could take anyone that came after him, but it would be an annoyance to have to carry on looking over his shoulder for another hunter. He took a holo-recording of the wreckage just in case and, with a sigh, blasted off towards his ship, which was concealed behind a huge boulder.

 

He’d been eager to see the Sith again, but now he thought it could have waited a while longer.

.

.

.

.

The price on his head was rather high for the loss of only one ship. Fett read the missive again, frowning. He knew he would be worth a lot, but still, he was irritated. Jabba hadn’t liked the holo Fett sent him. If anything, proof of the wreckage had only angered him more.

 

And the last of the money Vader had given him had already been spent. He currently had no means of repaying the Hutt, the only way he’d get the death mark off himself. He was looking for new jobs, but people weren’t too keen on hiring him while he was wanted by a Hutt.

 

The only thing Fett could think to do was… no, it was absurd.

 

He was currently staring at Darth Vader’s contact on his communicator, finger itching over the button.

 

Maybe Vader didn’t know about the price on his head, or if he did, perhaps he wouldn’t care. For some reason he thought Vader was likely to be unperturbed by that fact. He’d already demonstrated that he didn’t care about using illegal means to get what he desired; hiring a wanted man shouldn’t make much of a difference.

 

Deciding to just go for it, Fett made the call.

 

He was put on hold for a few minutes, and then an Imperial officer replied.

 

“This is a private number. Who am I speaking to?”

 

“Boba Fett. I need to talk to Vader.”

 

“ _Lord_ Vader is currently too busy. If you have a message, I’m sure I can –” The officer stopped talking, looking at something to his right. He stepped out of the way as Vader came into view.

 

“Leave.” Vader said, and the officer slid away hurriedly. The Sith folded his arms. “Fett.”

 

“Lord Vader.” Fett nodded, remembering his manners. He decided to cut to the chase. “I need a job.”

 

“If I have need of your services, I will contact you.”

 

“I really… need a job.” He repeated, firmly.

 

Vader tilted his helmet to the left slightly. “You are a wanted man.”

 

“You have good contacts.” Fett said. _Kriffing hell._

“No one will hire you?” Vader asked, slowly.

 

“I was hoping you could help me out.”

 

“Insolent.” Vader said. “You assume I have time for you?”

 

Fett seethed. “Jabba the Hutt is after me. Every bounty hunter in the sector is out looking for me. I just need enough to pay him back for the damages to his ship. Damages _you_ caused.” He saw Vader’s fingers twitch, and wondered if the Sith might have strangled him, were he in his presence physically.

 

“And I should help you out of the generosity of my heart.”

 

Fett blinked. Was that sarcasm?

 

“I’m not asking for much. Anything you’ve got. The galaxy is a busy place, I’m sure there’s someone who needs capturing or assassinating.” Fett reasoned. He wasn’t too hopeful at this point, but…

 

The Sith growled. “Give me a day.”

 

“Thank you.” Fett replied, astonished.

 

Vader did not reply, and cut the connection. Fett sat back in his seat, hardly believing his luck.

.

.

.

.

True to his word, Vader contacted him 20 hours later.

 

It was a pre-recorded message, informing him of a Force-user living on Ryloth. The planet was under Imperial rule, but Fett knew there were rebels there. There had been uprisings before. And now they were hiding a Force-user among them.

 

Fett was glad for the job, but even more so at the thought of getting to kill a Force-user. His hatred of Jedi was as strong as it had ever been, and he relished at the chance to face one in combat. The death of any Jedi was a victory in his book.

 

But he couldn’t help but think of his own fascination with Lord Vader. The Dark Lord was no Jedi, but he used the same tricks as they had. Fett had personally seen him choke people without touching them, not to mention there was that lightsaber he carried. It was red though, like that Dooku’s had been.

 

A Sith. That’s what he’d said.

 

Somehow Vader was different. Oh, Fett had a healthy amount of apprehension for the man, but not hatred. He hadn’t been given a reason to hate him yet, even though he was difficult as all hells.

 

He landed on Ryloth, in an uninhabited part of the jungle. Vader’s info put the man somewhere near here – he’d last been seen in one of the closer villages surrounding a small volcano. He saw the village in the distance as he approached, but made sure to stay out of range. His ship was distinctive and easily recognisable.

 

It took him half a day to reach the village on foot, as he took several detours, looking for signs of the Jedi. He thought maybe the man didn’t live in the village proper, but the surrounding jungle seemed clear of any civilisation. No one lived here.

 

He had no choice but to go inside the village, it seemed. With only a physical description of the man and no holo, it could take ages to find him.

 

He laid low for a while, sipping tea outside a vendor’s hut, watching, listening. He’d removed his helmet because it was so hot, and he felt rather exposed. But he seemed to be the only human currently in the village, so there wasn’t much he could do not to stand out.

 

He was on his second cup of tea when he saw it. A group of twi’leks were walking through the square, carrying supplies, and at the leader’s hip was a lightsaber, curved and shiny. Fett downed the rest of his drink, and stood. He tailed the group from a distance, keeping to the shadows of buildings and alleyways.

 

Eventually, when he peeked around a corner, the Jedi had vanished. He didn’t have time to look around before he heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber being ignited behind him. He jumped around and faced the Jedi, who was standing on the other end of the alley, bathed in the soft green light of his weapon.

 

“You’re not an inquisitor.” The Jedi said. It wasn’t a question.

 

He didn’t know what an inquisitor was, but he didn’t much care. “Boba Fett. A pleasure.”

 

The Jedi relaxed his stance. “Well then, Boba Fett, what do you want? Why were you following me?”

 

Fett put a hand on his blaster. “I don’t want anything. My employer wants you dead.” Then, he opened fire. The Jedi deflected the shots, just like Vader had, and advanced on him slowly. He knew at once he would need heavier firepower for this. Luckily, he’d come prepared. Reaching for the weapon on his back, Fett took several steps backwards. He saw the Jedi’s eyes go wide at the sight of his blaster-rifle – he knew he wouldn’t be able to return a shot from _that_.

 

The alley was not wide, and there was nowhere for the Jedi to jump to. Fett fired, and the shot punched a hole right in the middle of the twi’lek’s torso. He wheezed and whimpered, his lightsaber falling from his hand, and fell to the ground.

 

_Huh. That was easy._

 

He approached the man and watched him breathe his last breath. Then he pocketed his lightsaber. Fett thought he should send Vader a message to let him know the Jedi was dead, but he shouldn’t stay near the body too long so he moved to leave the alley first.

 

He was met with the end of a blaster in his face.

 

“Goodnight, Fett.” The bounty hunter at the other end said, and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

He was rocking back and forth on a cold surface, and he could hear the distinctive hum of a ship engine beneath him.

 

With a groan, he lifted his head, and remembered.

 

The other bounty hunter. The blaster. It must have been set to stun.

 

Jabba the Hutt had wanted him alive.

 

He looked around, blinking several times. His eyelids felt heavy; he was still very groggy. But he was definitely on a ship, trapped in the cargo hold, as far as he could see. Well this was annoying. After he got out of this, he’d have to find a way to get back to Ryloth to retrieve _Slave I_.

 

He tugged at his bindings, but they were much too tight to squeeze out of. His hands were bound in front of him though, so at least his arms wouldn’t be sore when he they were taken off. His own helmet was looking at him from across the room, settled on a wooden crate.

 

Now aware of his surroundings and situation, he remained calm. There had to be something…

 

He patted himself down, every part he could reach, feeling the numerous pouches and pockets on his flight suit. And – _there_. His communicator was still in his pocket. His captor was an amateur, then. Good to know.

 

The comm almost slipped out of his bound hands as he pulled it out, but he lunged for it and managed to keep a hold of it. He flipped it open, relieved to see the battery was still halfway full, and hesitated, biting his lip. Then thought, _screw it_.

 

_Lord Vader. Target dead. I was captured. Headed to Tatooine._

 

He had to hope that would be enough.

.

.

.

.

Jabba the Hutt sat on his dais, surrounded by a motley crew of debauched crime lords and slavers, looked down at Fett, and laughed. His voice boomed around the room, and he wobbled from side to side.

 

_The great Boba Fett, captured by a newbie._

Fett scowled. “You didn’t need to catch me. I was coming to you.”

 

The Hutt just laughed again. _Unlikely._

 

“I was just on an important job. I’ll have your money today.”

 

_75.000 credits, boy._

 

Fett swore under his breath. He hated grovelling, but it was necessary. “Make it 80.000. Just wait a while until my client comes, that’s all.” He was lying through his teeth, and he knew it. Vader wasn’t coming. There was just no way. But he could buy himself more time by making Jabba believe he was. Hopefully the Hutt would have him placed in a cell, and from there he could plan his escape.

 

The Hutt seemed pleased with his offer for more credits, and waved him away. _Take him elsewhere_ , he told his men.

 

The music in the main hall resumed, and Fett was escorted down to a cellblock. Most of the cells were full of a variety of unfortunate beings who had somehow displeased the slug. His cell was empty though, and he let himself be thrown in.

 

He’d never visited one of Jabba’s cells before. It was underground, and there were no windows. He could pick the lock, but he’d still have to exit through the main room. There was no other way out. He’d have to wait until things quieted down up there, and who knew how long that would take.

 

So he sat and waited for an opportunity.

.

.

.

.

He was dozing off, trying and failing to keep himself awake, when he noticed the music and shouting had stopped. He had no idea if it was night-time already, but he had to assume it was. Surprising that Jabba hadn’t gotten impatient and sent for him yet.

 

He fetched his lockpicking kit from a pouch at his waist, and leaned against the door, reaching with his arm to fiddle with the lock.

 

It was almost done, when he heard footsteps. The guards were back. He scowled and put his kit back in its place, backing away from the door. It opened moments later and the guards motioned for him to follow, their movements hurried. Something was wrong. They looked frightened.

 

Fett reluctantly followed. He did not wish to face Jabba again; sweet-talking really wasn’t his forte. Their footsteps echoed through the silent corridors and up the stairs, and when they entered the audience hall, Fett almost tripped over the last step.

 

Darth Vader stood in front of the Hutt, his body language indicating that he was most likely bored. His hands were at his hips, his stance lack.

 

 _Fett!_ The Hutt grumbled. _This is your employer?_

 

“I was working for him when your man snatched me, yeah.” He said, eyeing Vader.

 

“He will be leaving with me.” Vader told the Hutt. “Now.”

 

_Ah, there is still the matter of my money, Dark Lord. The boy promised me 80.000 credits._

 

Vader considered Fett for the first time since he’d entered the room. “His payment was to be 45.000.”

 

The Hutt chuckled. _Then_ you _owe me 35.000._

 

Vader stepped closer to the Hutt, and he managed to look quite menacing despite how very large the slug was. “I shall give _you_ 5.000 credits, and you will live. A fair deal, I think.”

 

Affronted, the slug recoiled. _Hah. I will accept 80.000, no less._

 

A long breath came from Vader, and he stepped away from the dais. The next moment, there was a flash of red, a humming sound, and two of Jabba’s guards lay dead. The red strobe of light was then pointed at Jabba, and the Sith spoke again; “5.000 credits.”

 

The other beings watching the scene screamed and scrambled back, but Jabba seemed rather unaffected.

 

“Jabba.” Fett finally said, and the slug’s attention turned to him. “I’ll do a free job for you next time. Take the 5.000 now, and I won’t charge you a thing next time you need me.”

 

Vader hummed. “I suggest you accept his proposal, Hutt. He is far more generous than I.”

 

The Hutt eyed Vader for a long moment, his eyes lingering on the lightsaber, then he looked back at Fett with a great heaving sigh.

 

 _Work for me free of charge, and there will be no hard feelings between us, boy._ He agreed at last.

 

“Good.” Vader said, and he turned to a couple of stormtroopers Fett hadn’t even noticed standing over there, he’d been so mesmerised by Vader. One of them brought over Jabba’s payment, and Vader cut Fett’s bindings with the tip of his lightsaber.

 

“Consider yourself lucky, Hutt, and pray I never have reason to come here again.” He growled at Jabba, and unceremoniously swept out of the room and up the stairs leading outside. Fett hurried after him after making sure to retrieve his helmet and weapons, ahead of the two stormtroopers.

 

Once they were out in the blazing heat of the planet’s twin suns, he removed his helmet and held it under his arm. Vader was already halfway to his shuttle, looking quite out of place in the sandy dune.

 

Fett blinked some sand out of his eyes, and followed. He caught up with the Sith before he reached the landing ramp, and called out. “I can’t believe you came.”

 

Vader paused, and his head turned slightly towards him. “Where is your ship.”

 

“Ah. Still on Ryloth. I can probably find a town around here, get a ride –”

 

“No need. Come with me.” Vader said, and disappeared up the ramp into the shuttle.

 

Fett hesitated, unsure of what this meant, but then he thought, _free ride_ , and hurried up the ramp too.

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.

.

.

The _Devastator_ had been waiting for them in orbit. They touched down in the main hangar, and Vader barely waited for the engine to turn off before he exited the shuttle.

 

The admiral of the ship was there to greet them with a squad of troops. “Welcome back, my Lord.” He nodded, and spared at glance at Fett, frowning.

 

Vader didn’t acknowledge his greeting, and simply ordered; “Set a course for Ryloth.” He didn’t wait for the man to reply. “Fett, with me.” He marched through the hangar and Fett popped his helmet back on before following.

 

They trudged through corridor after corridor, upwards into the ship, until they stopped in front of a door. Vader punched in a code, and they were let in. The room was rather plain, and dark, with a desk and some chairs in a corner, two sofas in the centre, and one viewport. They were not yet in hyperspace, and Fett could see a multitude of stars winking at him from the depths of space. When he moved closer he was able to see Tatooine below, gleaming a pale brown.

 

“Your payment.” Vader’s voice rumbled, and Fett turned to see Vader standing next to the desk, depositing a crate upon it.

 

“Thanks.” Fett replied, perhaps too casually. But Vader said nothing.

 

He moved to count the contents of the crate, but was a bit distracted by Vader’s closeness. The Sith didn’t move away, but rather stood towering above him, watching. Fett finally was satisfied by the amount of credits, and looked up at Vader. He couldn’t think of anything to say, eternally a man of few words, so he simply stared unabashedly.

 

“What is it.” Vader growled after a long moment.

 

“Nothing,” Fett said, too quickly. “You’re just…Big.”

 

His face instantly felt very hot, and he took a step back. What a stupid thing to say.

 

Vader certainly seemed at a loss. “Big.” He repeated, as quietly as his voice modulator would allow.

 

“Sorry – I –” Fett mumbled, still embarrassed.

 

“Careful.” Vader said then, his voice deep. “I have been very lenient with you, but you are not immune from me.”

 

Fett didn’t reply, just cleared his throat.

 

And Vader had apparently had enough. “Remain here. Sleep, if you wish. I will return once we have reached Ryloth.” And he was out the door before Fett could say anything.

 

He fell against the desk, and removed his helmet again, glad for the cool air of the room.

 

Big. _Big_. Was he out of his mind? He’d somehow looked over the fact that Vader was a killing machine who probably wouldn’t hesitate to strangle him, given a reason to do so. The Sith had been starting to look like a real person to him, and he had no idea why he was entertaining the idea of… of what? Befriending him? Not quite.

 

Fett sighed and rubbed his temple. Maybe he should take Vader’s suggestion and sleep. Apart from the time he’d spent stunned on a ship, it had been a while since he got some real shuteye, an it was clearly making him thoughtless. He walked over to the couch, stripping off the bulkiest parts of his armour, like his jetpack and chest piece, and made himself as comfortable as possible. His cape was small, smaller than Vader’s, but it would make a suitable blanket for now.

 

He was out in moments, his thoughts still on the Sith staring down at him threateningly.

.

.

.

.

He woke slowly, what felt like hours later, to the sound of deep, regulated breathing. It soothed him for a moment and he lay listening to it, until his brain caught up and he realised what it was. He sat up at once, eyes wide and on Vader, who was standing near the door watching him.

 

He wanted to say something, that it was rude to watch someone sleep, or to ask if they had reached Ryloth, but it was caught in his throat, and so he waited for the Sith to speak first.

 

“I thought you might be hungry.” Vader said, and – stars help Fett – he sounded… awkward. Fett looked closer and saw a platter of food set on the desk next to his helmet.

 

His voice finally came back to him. “Ah – yes, I’m hungry.” As if on cue, his innards squirmed, and the smell of the food hit him. He rose from the couch, pushing his cape back over his shoulder, and sat at the desk. He’d been eating for about a minute before he looked back up at Vader inquiringly.

 

“You’re… not going.” He remarked.

 

The Sith did not reply, and instead walked over the couch opposite from where Fett had been sleeping, sat, and produced a datapad from somewhere in his outfit. Raising an eyebrow, Fett didn’t comment, and continued to eat.

 

Once he was done he put the cover back on the platter, and debated whether or not to go sit with Vader in the lounge area. After fighting with himself over it for several seconds, he finally gave in and went across to the other couch, picking up the stray parts of his armour along the way.

 

He set about putting them back into place, but before he was done, with only the jetpack remaining, Vader finally spoke.

 

“You are enamoured with me.”

 

Fett almost choked. “What.”

 

“You are attracted to power, and I fascinate you.” Vader said calmly, clinically stating facts.

 

And Fett couldn’t deny it.

 

“That day, when we killed the rebels, you liked it. You enjoyed watching me kill. It excited you.”

 

His whole body felt on fire, and he thought his face must be an embarrassing shade of pink. “Please.” He mumbled, though he wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Please stop? Please go on?

 

“You can’t hide anything from me. I felt it all through the Force,” Vader continued. “Your feverishness, your awe. Lust.”

 

Fett looked away, then back at Vader. “You were amazing to watch.” He admitted cautiously.

 

“I cannot give you what you seek.”

 

“And…” Fett coughed. “And what do you think that is?”

 

“Sith do not form attachments.” Vader said, ignoring his question completely.

 

“Krif, I'm not… I don’t want to…” He couldn’t make himself say the words, but it seemed Vader understood him just fine.

 

“You are not an emotional man.”

 

“I – Not generally.”

 

Vader stood up, and Fett held his breath, watching him come closer. The Sith bent slightly, and placed a hand on his chest.

 

“Hey – what –”

 

“Stay still.” Vader ordered, and Fett was surprised at how quickly he obeyed. Vader’s hand ran up and down his torso, then reached into one of the larger pouches, and pulled out the lightsaber Fett had taken from the dead Jedi. He then stepped back towards his couch, and sat back down again.

 

Fett tightened his jaw. _That arsehole._ He probably could have taken the thing without even getting up; there had been no need for him to manhandle him like that. Had he done that to… tease him? He wouldn’t have thought Vader capable of such a thing.

 

“I specifically asked you to bring the lightsaber to me.” Vader said as he turned the thing over in his hands.

 

“Forgot I had it honestly. I didn’t exactly have the most pleasant day.”

 

Vader hummed disinterestedly. “You dislike lightsabers.”

 

“I wish you’d stop talking like you know everything about me.” Fett retorted.

 

“You dislike Jedi as well,” Vader continued. “For what happened to your father.”

 

“What would _you_ know about that?” Fett frowned.

 

“Yet,” Vader went on as though uninterrupted. “You do not dislike me.”

 

With a huff, Fett sat back further into the couch. “You’re no Jedi. You use the same power but…” He made a vague noise after that, unsure where he was even going with that statement. Why exactly _didn’t_ he dislike the Sith Lord? It was hard to say.

 

And up until now he hadn’t really lingered on that particular train of thought, thinking it most likely led to a dangerous place. Vader was dangerous – this was dangerous.

 

But Boba Fett liked danger.

 

“What exactly do you want?” He asked, testing the waters.

 

“Sith have no wants outside of the quest for power.” Vader recited.

 

What a typical answer, coming from him. Fett sighed, resisting an urge to roll his eyes. “So then, why bring it up at all if you don’t want anything from me?” Fett would have been perfectly content to let this continue as a subconscious fantasy, to keep watching the Sith from afar and try his best to ignore the tension. It was Vader who was suddenly making this into a real thing.

 

The Sith was silent a long time, and the air was heavy with… something. Anticipation. Vader was about to say something important, he could feel it.

 

But then the Sith stood again, and took a step towards the viewport. “We have reached Ryloth.”

 

“Okay.” Fett said reluctantly, annoyed at this turn of events. He looked behind him and saw that they had indeed come out of hyperspace. When it became apparent their conversation was truly over, Fett crossed the room to retrieve his payment, put on his helmet, and made to leave.

 

He looked one last time over his shoulder at Vader, but the man was still and silent as ever. He had completely closed down, and Fett wouldn’t read anything from his body language alone.

 

With a sigh, Fett let himself out and made his way back to the hangar to find the pilot Vader had said would escort him down to the planet.

.

.

.

.

The next few times he worked for Vader, they spoke as little as possible. The Sith gave him the info, sometimes through text only, was there on time at the drop-off points, but said nothing.

 

It seemed that, unless something exceptional happened, their relationship – for all that it was – would remain stuck in this state. Fett tried not to let it get to him, though he was frustrated. He still remembered how Vader had been, how he’d almost said _something_. And Fett’s curiosity burned.

 

Perhaps he’d never know what the man had been about to say. In the meantime, he kept himself focused on his work, and never really spared more than a glance at Vader.

 

The exceptional thing happened almost a year later.

 

Fett was working far from the outer rim that week, a rare occurrence. But that was where his target had fled to, and so here he was. He’d been tracking the guy for a week now, and was counting on finding him on one of the moons of Corellia.

 

He had not however counted on the moon being under Imperial occupation. The blockade was clearly a recent development; a star destroyer was stationed in orbit, and several shuttles were making their way down to the surface. Fett kept his distance, deciding to land on the other end of the moon. That side was closer to his destination anyway.

 

There was no way they wouldn’t detect his ship entering the atmosphere, but it would take them a while if they didn’t actually spot him, and maybe he’d have time to complete his contract and take off again before anybody came looking for him.

 

He found a good place to land quickly enough, and started making his way to the remote camp he’d spotted on the way down. It was a tiny settlement not on any records, perfect for hiding, which meant there was a good chance he would find his target there. This moon had a temperate climate, and his suit and armour were just warm enough to keep him comfortable on his trek. He journeyed through the rocky terrain, on the border of a great forest, and finally spotted the camp, all the way down the valley. Several ships were parked at the edge of the settlement, but none looked Imperial.

 

Journeying as far down the mountainside as he dared, Fett decided on a good vantage point and settled down to watch. He’d have to find his target first, then figure out where he lived and if there were any other beings nearby he should worry about. He spent a good part of the afternoon laying there and watching through his scope.

 

His target was in his sights soon enough, and he watched his movements carefully for the next half hour. He’d removed his helmet for now, but he still heard the alarm for the proximity sensor go off. Quickly he swung his rifle over his arm, put his helmet back on and, still crouching, looked through the brush behind him.

 

He couldn’t see anything yet, but now he heard heavy footsteps coming his way. They were slow, but obviously the creature was very large. He couldn’t recall ever knowing which type of creatures inhabited this moon, and he chastised himself for not looking into it beforehand.

 

Well, whatever it was, he was sure he could take it. Or outrun it, if need be.

 

It came stumbling out from the thick canopy of trees, drooling, its thick arms and long-clawed hands reaching forwards – a rancor. Fett stood and reached for his rifle, and managed to land two shots before it was on him. The tough thing about rancors were their hands. They had a very strong grip, and if they managed to trap you within their claws, it was very hard to get out of it.

 

Not that Fett had any previous experience with that. But he knew he did _not_ want to be eaten today.

Opening fire on the creature, and only just avoiding a swipe of its claw, Fett cursed. the rancor’s thick hide reduced the damage from his shots quite effectively. It roared, perhaps in pain, but kept moving towards him.

“Blast!” He swore when one of its claws grazed him. It tore through the fabric of his jumpsuit and into his skin, in the gap in his armour right below his chest piece. He couldn’t tell how deep the cut was, but he was definitely bleeding.

It hurt when he next jumped out of the way of the beast’s grasp, but he grit his teeth and ignored it. He’d suffered worse injuries during combat before. The rancor advanced on him quickly now, and Fett realised too late that he was dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

In an effort not to fall, he moved forth, right within the rancor’s reach. Long thick claws closed around his midsection and he was slowly lifted up off the ground. He kicked, trying to get a hit on the creature’s softer underbelly, but was just out of range.

His only hope was to reach his rifle - but it was trapped against his torso, sandwiched between it and his arm. He breathed slowly, trying to relax, to focus. His eyes widened: his finger was still on the trigger!

The rancor shrieked when he shot it. From such a close proximity, the shot made it through its skin. He was not dropped, but its grip slackened enough that he was able to pull his arm - and his rifle - free.

When he was again raised towards the rancor’s gaping jaw, he took his aim, and shot it right in the back of the mouth. The beast went limp, but Fett was unable to scrambled out of its claws in time before it fell from the cliff. He was dragged along with it, rolling down the rocky mountain.

The rancor’s body broke most of his fall once they reached a flatter part of the ravine, but he still groaned in pain. His foot was twisted in an uncomfortable direction, not broken he knew, but painful enough that he saw white for a moment or two.

He stayed down a while to regain his senses before rolling off of the dead beast with a huff. They’d fallen quite a ways down, he thought, looking up the cliff. There was no way he’d be able to climb that with his foot injured. And – he realised in a flash – his jetpack was not in its usual spot on his back. He vaguely remembered removing it so he could sit more comfortably against one of the rocks up on the edge of the cliff. There had been no time to grab it before the rancor attacked.

Managing to sit up, Fett looked over in disgust at the rancor’s open maw. If he had the strength he would push the thing even further down the mountainside, but that wasn’t in the realm of possibility right now. He checked the rest of his body for any other injuries, but there was nothing other than the cut on his abdomen.

Relieved, he started looking for somewhere to lay low until his foot was better. When he glanced upwards, he saw the opening of a cave in the rocks. It was only a little higher than he could reach while standing, so he tried his luck. His upper body strength proved to be enough and, though he couldn’t avoid jarring his foot against the rocks as he pushed himself up, he made it in one piece.

His foot was throbbing, and he had to lie down and breathe deeply for a moment before pressing on.

The cave had a very low ceiling, but it was deep enough and the opening not that large. He was quite sure nothing much bigger than him would be able to get through. He leant back against the wall of the cave and reached for his medical pouch. There was soothing cream and gauze in there suitable for the large cut on his stomach, and he applied a generous coating of cream, covering it afterwards with the wrappings.

His work done, he let himself relax. There was no other option but to wait for his foot to feel better, but at least he was safe enough in here. He removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his face, staring at the long shadows on the ground. The sun was still up, but it wouldn’t be long now. His hand still on his rifle, he closed his eyes, only intending to rest a minute.

.

.

.

.

When he woke, it was dark. He could only just see the moon through the opening in the rocks, so it couldn’t be very high yet. He guessed it must be around one or two hours before midnight. The sky was a rich dark indigo, littered with sparkling stars, except in one corner of his vision.

 

There was a shadow there, at the entrance of the cave. A person-shaped shadow. He sat up at once, ignoring the pain that shot through his midsection, and squinted. The next moment, a long, deep, mechanical breathing sound echoed through the cave.

 

Fett went limp again.

 

“Oh, it’s you.” He sighed and looked down, making sure his rifle was still at his side. He couldn’t be sure of Vader’s intentions.

 

There was a long stretch of silence, then the shadow moved closer, into the cave proper. “You are injured.”

 

“Well aren’t you the master of observation.”

 

Vader stopped walking, but his tone was perfectly level when he next spoke. “I sensed your pain and your fear from the other side of this moon.”

 

“And you came all the way here to make sure I was okay? Touching.” Fett said through his teeth, feeling the cut on his stomach under the bandages. He’d have to put more balm on it, whenever Vader left him alone.

 

The Sith did not answer. Fett’s eyes had adjusted to the dark and he could only just make out the shapes on his mask, illuminated ever so slightly by all the lights on his chest. “I saw the rancor.” He said, then. “Were you caught unawares?”

 

“Why do you care?” Fett asked, not caring if it sounded defensive. He felt like injured prey, and the predator was a bit too close for his liking. Facing Vader while in top shape with his wits about him, that, Fett could do. This situation however was a bit too unpredictable for his liking. Was Vader here to talk? To strangle him? What? He couldn’t think what he could have done to merit this visit. They hadn’t said more then a few words to each other since that day on the _Devastator_ , and Fett had always delivered during the last few jobs Vader had hired him for. There was no logical reason for this.

 

“You are feverish.” Vader said, disregarding Fett’s comment.

 

“No – what? How could you even tell?” He reached to feel his forehead after removing a glove, but his hand was so cold that he couldn’t tell if the heat of his face was not normal.

 

He watched as Vader came even closer and bent down so one of his knees was touching the ground. Fett twitched when the Sith reached for his discarded helmet, but Vader only picked it up and put it back over his head. His rifle was then taken from him and, to his utter horror and embarrassment, Vader put one arm under his legs, a hand supported his shoulders, and he was lifted off the ground.

 

“Hey!” He exclaimed, squirming as best he could. The cut on his stomach burned, and he gasped, going slack again.

 

“You are too injured to walk.” Vader said calmly, and carried him out of the cave.

 

With his strong arms supporting him, Fett felt almost weightless. He avoided looking up at Vader’s masked face, instead facing forward, watching where they were going. It was a bizarre thing to notice, but Vader had no smell, apart from the heady scent of leather.

 

He could see Vader’s shuttle down on the next flat part of the mountainside, waiting for them.

 

“Wait.” Fett said. “My jetpack. It’s up there.”

 

Vader came to a halt and looked to where Fett was pointing. He gave a soft sigh, barely audible, and lifted his hand from around Fett’s shoulders. A moment later Fett saw his pack, floating in the air towards them like it was nothing, and Vader caught it.

 

“Is that all?”

 

“I… yeah.” Fett said awkwardly, chancing a look up at him. He had his helmet on anyway, and it wasn’t like Vader could see through it. Could he?

 

Their journey down the side of the cliff was smoother than Fett had anticipated, and they were soon boarding the shuttle. He couldn’t see any stormtroopers or officers, but there was little time to wonder about that as Vader put him down on a bunk, and turned to fumble with something on the other side of the room.

 

Fett stared up at the ceiling, confused and on edge. It was clear now that Vader had not appeared to hurt him, but his intentions were still a mystery. Whether he was simply here to retrieve Fett remained to be seen.

 

The Sith returned after only a few seconds, with a roll of fresh bandages and a bottle of clear liquid. Vader then promptly tugged at the tear in Fett’s jumpsuit, undoing the old bandaging as he did so. It smelled of antiseptic then when Vader got the small bottle open, and Fett only just had time to suck in a breath before a rag soaked in the liquid was pressed to his stomach. It was cold and it stung terribly, but he forced himself not to have too much of a reaction, unwilling to appear weak in front of Vader. This was already embarrassing enough.

 

Strangely gentle, Vader cleaned the cut as thoroughly as possible before wrapping it in new bandages. These were of a better quality than the ones Fett had, and much softer.

 

“It is not infected.” Vader announced, taking a step back.

 

“Good to know.” Fett said cautiously. He made a noise of protest as Vader lifted his helmet from his head, but he couldn’t do much to stop him. He frowned up at the Sith, but Vader said nothing. A leather-clad hand was then pressed over the bandages, delicately, but seemingly for no reason. Fett wondered a moment if he dared to try and pull the hand off, but it was soon removed anyway, so he was saved the need.

 

Vader was silent a long time, so Fett spoke to try and cut the tension.

 

“Will I make it?” He asked in a mock-worried voice.

 

Vader considered him, let out two long breaths, then placed a hand on Fett’s forehead. “You will sleep.”

 

And he did.


	3. Chapter 3

He became aware of the gentle hum of an engine, and when he managed to open his eyes, he was no longer in the bunk from before. Fett recognised the couch as the last one he had slept on, in Vader’s quarters on board his destroyer. His helmet and most of his armour, along with his rifle and jetpack, were all on the couch opposite his.

 

He sat up and noticed he felt much better than he had earlier. His foot still felt a bit stiff, but it could carry his weight and when he stretched, the wound on his abdomen didn’t sting at all. He pulled up the loose flap of his jumpsuit just above the cut, and started to unravel the gauze.

 

To his surprise, his wound was now a faint scar. He prodded at it, testing the stretch of his skin. The scar looked months old.

 

But there was no time to marvel at the speed of his recovery, as Vader soon joined him in the room, through a doorway to the left.

 

“I see you are awake.” The Sith said, always stating facts.

 

“Yeah. And healed.”

 

“The Force can do much to aid the healing of minor injuries.” Vader explained.

 

Fett bit his lip. “Who said you could use _the Force_ on me?”

 

“Would you rather be unable to move still?”

 

Fett supposed he wouldn’t, but didn’t voice it.

 

“So.” He said instead. “What now?”

 

“My destroyer is still in orbit over the moon. You may return to your hunt as soon as you wish.”

 

“Wasn’t what I meant.”

 

Vader stared down at him, breathing, his hands resting at his belt.

 

With a sigh, Fett went on. “What do you want from me?”

 

“I require no favour from you.” Vader said simply.

 

“Then why help me?”

 

Vader was silent.

 

“You must have had a reason.” Fett pressed.

 

“I sensed you were injured. I wondered if you were going to die.”

 

Frowning, Fett cocked his head at the Sith. “So? That’s my business, isn’t it?”

 

“You are the most capable bounty hunter in the Outer Rim territories.” Vader said, as though that cleared up anything. What, was Fett supposed to conclude Vader was afraid he’d die? Didn’t seem like the Sith to be afraid of anything.

 

“I didn’t know you were capable of giving compliments.” Fett remarked, even though Vader had praised him before.

 

“I can recognize talent when I see it.” The Sith said simply.

 

Fett looked around, feeling exposed without his helmet and armour. “Do you have time to be here? Don’t they need you on the bridge or something?”

 

“Do you wish for me to leave?” Vader asked slowly.

 

“No, I…” Fett cursed under his breath. “I just don’t understand.”

 

Vader fell silent again, simply looking down at him. From all the way down on the couch, he looked about twice as tall as usual.

 

“What was it you said before… That I was _enamoured_ with you?”

 

“It was obvious.” Vader said.

 

“Well…” Fett hesitated a moment, then threw caution to the wind. “You weren’t wrong.” If the Sith was surprised at all there was no way to tell. But he didn’t speak so Fett continued. “I know Sith don’t ‘form attachments’ as you said. I’m not suggesting… a relationship.” Just saying it made him feel foolish. “Only… blowing off steam, maybe?”

 

Vader still said nothing.

 

“Look. I respect you. And you obviously don’t mind me at the very least. That must be rare for you.”

 

“There are very few people I would let talk to me this way.” Vader recognised. It sounded almost like a threat, but Fett wasn’t deterred.

 

“See? That’s what I mean.” He had to fight down a grin. “You _like_ me.”

 

“Do not push your luck, bounty hunter.” Vader growled. Fett wasn’t impressed. He stood to face the man, as close to him as he dared.

 

“Pushing my luck is what I do, my Lord.” He said cheekily. Vader didn’t chastise him further, nor did he take a step back. They were inches from each other now, and Fett had to look up to see Vader’s mask. Deep black eye sockets greeted him, expressionless as always. He hummed at the Sith, thinking. “You haven’t told me no, yet.” He remarked.

 

Vader didn’t reply, so he took that as permission.

 

He stepped even closer and, mindful of the dials and buttons on the Sith Lord’s chest, ran a hand down Vader’s body. There was too much fabric and metal in the way for him to really feel anything, but he knew from just looking at him that his body was muscular. He kept his eyes on Vader’s mask as he rested both hands just above the man’s belt.

 

His fingers played with the buckle but he didn’t dare try and undo it. He longed to reach further down, but waited for a reaction from Vader first. The Sith’s breaths came slow and deep, and he hadn’t moved a bit since Fett came closer. Finally, Fett forced down his apprehension, and let one of his hands slip lower, over the hard surface of Vader’s codpiece.

 

At once another hand grasped his wrist and pulled him away. Another hand took him by the shoulder, and pushed him to the side against the wall. Fett sucked in a breath and rested his head back, exposing his throat. He did it subconsciously, on reflex. There was an undertone of submissiveness he wasn’t used to showing, but Vader’s overpowering presence brought it out.

 

He was prepared for Vader to leave, but instead the Sith placed one hand around his neck, and the other on his hip, with his thumb grazing the now faded scar on his stomach. The texture of his gloves was coarse.

 

“No choking.” Fett managed to say, though Vader’s grip on his neck was loose. The hand retreated immediately, and he took a deep breath. He’d almost expected Vader to squeeze harder if he was honest.

 

Vader’s hands concentrated on Fett’s abdomen, pushing the torn fabric of his suit out of the way. The next second his belt fell to the floor, and what remained of the fabric around his waist was severed from the rest of his clothing. He bit back a comment about the loss of his jumpsuit – he’d had it for years – and instead braced himself against the wall. The Sith Lord’s hands were rough, and he pulled down Fett’s underclothes without preamble. Fett was half hard already, and Vader’s hand around him helped with that.

 

He let Vader feel him for a minute, before deciding to help. Not that he completely disliked the sensation of leather against his skin, but things were a bit too dry at the moment. He removed his gloves hurriedly, slipped his fingers into his mouth for a brief moment, then wrapped his own hand against his cock right above Vader’s hand. The saliva smeared and mixed with the fluid amassing at the head, and he rubbed himself slowly, just as Vader’s hand moved to cover his.

 

There was enough of a rhythm going then, and Vader pulled Fett’s hand away with his own free one. He then brought the fingers up to Fett’s mouth, and Fett let them in, all the while wondering why the Sith wasn’t removing any clothing. His glove tasted of clean leather, and Fett bit down gently, surprised at the hardness of Vader’s finger. It did not yield at all under the pressure of his teeth. A prosthetic, perhaps?

 

But he didn’t dwell on that line of thought and rather concentrated on the feel of Vader’s fingers working him, now slightly coated in pre-come. His whole body was heated, and his breathing was rather uneven now. He held himself against Vader’s body, slightly to the side so as not to disturb his control panel of lights and switches.

 

“You were right you know,” he breathed. “I really liked watching you kill those rebels. I liked killing them together. You were covered in blood afterwards.”

 

“And that made you desire me?” Vader asked, his tone of voice even. It was unfair how calm he still sounded.

 

Fett gave a small laugh in between two pants. “ _Firfiek._ ” He swore in mando’a. “It did.” He bucked into Vader’s hand and shut his eyes tightly. One of his hands reached out to steady himself on Vader’s shoulders. “Didn’t think it would happen like this though. Didn’t think you’d be… giving.”

 

Vader had no reply for that, just kept up the pace, and removed his now thoroughly wet fingers from Fett’s mouth to instead palm his arse.

 

“Ah,” Fett let out a breath when one of the Sith’s fingers grazed his hole. “Please, yes.”

 

The finger slipped inside him and he bit his lip. He widened his stance instinctively to let more of Vader in and his free hand went to Vader’s belt again, trying to figure out how to get it open. But the Sith grumbled; “No.”

 

With an annoyed sound, Fett did as he was told and let it be. Maybe there’d be time after. He should enjoy having the Sith’s attention all to himself for now.

 

They couldn’t do much more than this without lube – one finger inside him was tight enough as it was – but he took in as much as he could, holding Vader’s arm now and moving along with it. He groaned, the heat in his belly almost too much, but held on.

 

“ _Firfiek_ ,” he swore again. “You’re so…” He didn’t know which adjective to use, so he trailed off, breathing hard. He was on the edge now, so close, but Vader gripped him tight.

 

Fett gasped then, when he felt something deeper inside him, but it couldn’t be Vader’s finger, it was much too…

 

The Force.

 

Fett had a tenuous admiration for the Force. He’d hated Jedi, but Vader’s use of the Force was different and impressive and, at the moment, exciting. He hadn’t considered this possibility at all. The feeling was overwhelming, and then gone. He moaned at the loss.

 

“Stars, that’s…” He touched his forehead to the cool metal on Vader’s chest. “Kriff, I need, I need…”

 

“What do you need?” From their closeness, Vader’s deep voice vibrated through Fett’s body, making him shiver. He grit his teeth, but still did not come.

 

“I want release.” He said, and it came out almost a sob. “Please – do that thing again –”

 

A second later the pressure returned, right against his prostate. He groaned, bucking his hips wildly, and came on Vader’s hand. Sagging, he felt himself lean on Vader fully, but he couldn’t bring himself to care just yet. A strong arm held him at a small distance while he panted and continued to rub against the Sith, searching for more friction. It felt like he blacked out for a moment and when he finally came back to his senses, he took a slight step back, though he kept his hold on Vader’s forearm.

 

“ _Naast_.” He whispered.

 

Vader let Fett hold him, waiting for him to recover.

 

He wiped sweat from his brow before bending down to reach his discarded belt. There was a rag somewhere in one of the pouches, and he used it to wipe first Vader’s hand, and then himself. Vader’s other hand was still gripping him firmly, just under the shoulder, and it felt bizarrely nice, intimate even.

 

That done, Fett straightened and considered the Sith. He’d rebuked both his attempts at reciprocating, but surely he wouldn’t object now that Fett was taken care of. He wondered, not for the first time, what Vader might look like under all that metal and leather. How old he was, how handsome even. Perhaps he wasn’t human at all.

 

Fett glanced lower, at Vader’s belt again. He rarely let people have his mouth, it wasn’t his favourite thing to do, but if Vader wanted it he wouldn’t exactly object. His hands dipped lower, to feel Vader’s powerful thighs.

 

“Your turn now?”

 

“No.” Vader said.

 

Fett removed his hands. “Really. I can suck you off. I’d even let you fuck me.”

 

Vader was silent for a long time. Fett thought he sensed hesitation, but the Sith sighed deeply and repeated himself. “No.”

 

Alright, Fett knew when to back down. It was a little off-putting, and entirely unexpected, that the Sith desired nothing in return, but he had no idea what went on in the man’s head on a normal day, so he had to let it go. He filed his ideas away for another time, just in case.

 

He pulled his underwear back up, but there was nothing he could do about his ruined jumpsuit. He shrugged the upper portion off, pausing to let Vader remove his hand, and stared resolutely back up at him, rather unashamed of his near-nakedness.

 

“Next time then.” He said, just as a suggestion. “So do you have clothes I can borrow, or is watching me walk out of here naked part of your whole fantasy.”

 

Fett grinned and rather thought that, if he were capable of it, Vader would be smirking. He watched as the Sith walked to the other side of the room, to a control panel, and ordered for a box of TIE pilots suits to be delivered to his quarters.

 

So these _were_ his personal quarters. Fett looked around again, wondering at the lack of such furniture, notably a bed. Though, there was that other room through to the left…

 

Vader returned to stand in front of him, his arms folded this time. Fett squirmed slightly.

 

“What, do you want to go again?” He felt his body heat up again despite himself.

 

“Do not think this has changed anything, bounty hunter.” Vader sighed, as though speaking to a petulant child. “Do not try my patience.”

 

“Got it.” Fett said mildly. He gathered his belt and what was left of his suit in his arms and walked back to the couches, feeling a little foolish in just his boots and underwear. But, well, he had just come in front of Darth kriffing Vader, so there wasn’t much he could do today to top that.

 

He waited in silence, sat on the arm of the couch, until the pilot suits were delivered. Vader pushed the box towards him and he fumbled through it, looking for something his size. Once he was all dressed – minus his armour, which he would have to hold in his arms – he looked back at Vader awkwardly, searching for what to say.

 

Fortunately, Vader saved him the trouble. “The same pilot as last time will escort you down to retrieve your ship. You will find him by the shuttle in the main hangar.”

 

“Alright then.” Fett nodded, taking one last long look at the Sith. He didn’t want for him to start telling him off though, so he didn’t linger too long, and was soon out the door and on his way back to _Slave I_.

.

.

.

.

The whole thing almost seemed like a fever dream, days and weeks later, when he thought about it.

 

But the memories were still vivid. Of Vader’s domineering presence, his hands on him and in his mouth, the vibration of his voice sparking a flame through Fett’s body. He’d brought the scene to mind again several times since then while he jerked himself off, particularly the memory of the invisible pressure deep inside him.

 

He grew heated when he imagined Vader’s form enveloping him, diminishing him –

 

He didn’t have to imagine it today though; the Sith was right there next to him, towering over everybody present. They were surrounded by rebels – once again a drop-off gone wrong – but were making quick work of them together. Fett had tracked down and killed another Imperial turncoat, and apparently her allies had followed him back to Vader.

 

They’d obviously been surprised to see the Dark Lord, but it was too late to retreat, so they had opened fire on them both. Vader, who had been accompanied only by a handful of troopers, met them easily, deflecting shots left and right, whilst also managing to strangle a few of the closer ones. Fett hovered next to him using his jetpack, looking over the scene and picking off any who came near. He was watching Vader’s back essentially, though he knew the Sith didn’t really need him to.

 

He just liked to feel useful.

 

Bodies covered the ground around them and, at last, one final man was left standing. He faced them bravely, Fett had to admit, shooting Vader point-blank, though it was useless.

 

Vader advanced on him and gripped him by the neck. His other hand caught the man’s blaster and crushed it easily.

 

“Answer me, and you may die painlessly,” Vader snarled. “Where are your leaders? Your small band could not have been acting here alone.”

 

The man struggled and wheezed, but managed to speak. “G – Go to hell –”

 

Vader made another displeased sound, and ran the man through with his lightsaber, in what Fett could tell was a non-vital spot. He rather made a large gaping hole through the rebel’s stomach and let him fall, watching as his insides poured out of him. The man was moaning and gurgling, but it didn’t take long for him to fall silent and still, with his eyes wide and glassy. The Sith then turned and looked straight at Fett.

 

 _Curse him_ , he knew exactly what effect this was having on him. Fett was embarrassingly excited at the sight, and he dropped down from the air, putting away his own weapon. They were the only two beings left alive in the clearing – all the rebels were surely dead now, and Vader’s little group of stormtroopers hadn’t made it either. Fett watched him walk back to his shuttle and board it, and followed soon after, certain his payment must be on board.

 

Indeed, he found Vader in the main sitting area of the shuttle, with a crate in his arms.

 

“15.000 credits as agreed upon.” He held the crate towards Fett. “Now, if that is all –”

 

“Wait.” Fett said, without really thinking it over. He bit his lip beneath his helmet, hesitating. He knew what he wanted, but he was still timid about asking for it. Last time had happened rather naturally, with as little words as possible.

 

He took the crate and put it aside. There’d be time to count the credits later, not that he didn’t trust Vader to hold up his end of the bargain.

 

Stepping closer to Vader, he reached out as slowly as possible, in case the Dark lord decided he didn’t want this, and touched his hands to his sides. He watched his mask carefully, though there was no emotion to be read there, and lowered his hands, stopping just above a most dangerous part of the Sith’s body, one he was yearning to touch. Instead his hands slipped back, around Vader’s waist, and came to rest over the curve of his arse.

 

Vader grabbed him by the upper arms and slammed him against the table, his breathing rough and faster than usual.

 

“Impatient?” Fett laughed, keeping his hands on the Sith’s buttocks. He kneaded them carefully through the padded fabric and was quite sure they were flesh. So, Vader wasn’t a cyborg of some kind, then. Probably. The Lord’s cape fell around Fett like a curtain as he loomed over him, staring him down and breathing. It was amazing how his gaze could pin Fett to the table so easily, even without visible eyes.

 

It seemed Vader wasn’t going to make the next move though, so Fett reluctantly removed his hands from where he was feeling up the Sith, and started undoing the trousers of his brand new jumpsuit. He sighed when he took himself in his own hand, and gave a few long, lazy strokes. Vader finally came out of whatever trance he was in, and ran a hand over Fett’s stomach, tracing the faded scar there. Fett shivered.

 

His hand then made to cover his, but Fett stopped what he was doing, and reached for one of the pouches on his belt. He’d taken to carrying a small bottle of slick now wherever he went, just in case. The bottle in hand, he passed it to Vader, and removed his gloves and his helmet, throwing them aside.

 

If Vader was amused by the preparation on his part he didn’t voice it, and squeezed some of the lube over his own glove.

 

“Aren’t gonna take those off?” Fett remarked casually. “Harder to wash than hands, I’d imagine.”

 

“Silence.” Vader only said, wearily. He put his hand on Fett’s cock the next moment, and all was forgotten. Fett gasped, first at the coldness of the lube, then at the movement of Vader’s hand. He closed his eyes, simply enjoying it for a few seconds.

 

Then Vader pulled him forward by his legs, and he sat up obediently, perched on the very edge of the table. He was painfully hard now, but he watched calmly as Vader removed his hand from him to coat it with more liquid. It went to his backside next, one finger tracing the line of his arse slowly, pulling a full-body shiver from him.

 

A few more seconds of this, and Fett grew impatient. “Just do it already.”

 

Vader’s hand squeezed him rather painfully in response, but it was a small price to pay for the finger that then entered him. Their position was rearranged, as Vader pulled him yet closer, sitting him partially on one of his own thick thighs, so he had easier access to Fett’s behind. Fett held himself in place using both hands, placing them on each side of the Sith’s chest. The twin flaps of fabric over his armour were surprisingly soft.

 

He was aware he was making all kinds of embarrassing sounds as Vader worked him open, but he really didn’t care. The Sith didn’t seem to mind, or at least he hadn’t told him to shut up yet, so Fett could only assume that he liked it.

 

There were three fingers in his arse now, and he used his grip on the Sith’s shoulders to gently fuck himself on them, resting his forehead on the cool metal armour at Vader’s neck. One of his hands went to his cock then, desperate for attention, but Vader slapped it away.

 

“Touch me, then!” Fett gasped.

 

Vader said nothing, but continued stretching him with his other hand.

 

Gritting his teeth, Fett gave a half-sigh, half-groan. “Please, please, touch me.”

 

Vader’s free hand immediately went to his cock and resumed the rhythm from before, and Fett almost didn’t care that he had just begged for it, as long as it was happening.

 

Another minute of this and he nearly couldn’t take it anymore. Well, he had already resorted to pleaded, so what was a little more.

 

He moaned softly, and leaned away from Vader’s neck, arching his back and exposing his neck. To his surprise, Vader’s head followed, and his triangular jaw came to rest at the juncture of Fett’s shoulder, in the semblance of a kiss.

 

“I want your cock.” Fett blurted out. It was true. Fingers were nice, but couldn’t do the job as effectively.

 

Vader fucked him with his hand harder than before, but not quite as deeply as Fett wanted. “I cannot.” He said softly.

 

Fett didn’t know what to respond, so he just nodded and picked up the pace to match his faster strokes. He considered that perhaps Vader had something else in his pants. There remained the possibility that he wasn’t human, too. He’d have to find out later if he could.

 

But for now he leaned against Vader’s chest again, burying his face in the looser folds of fabric there, and pushed his arse against the Sith’s hand as hard as he could. And finally, Vader’s fingers reached deeper inside him, curling and prodding again and again at his most sensitive spot, and he cried out, a choked and broken sound.

 

His vision whited out, and he was only vaguely aware of Vader fucking him through the after waves. His body had fallen flush against Vader’s, with his legs curled around him as much as they could with his trousers still pooled around near his feet. He panted against the Sith’s chest, slowly coming back to himself.

 

“ _Naast_ ,” he sighed.

 

Vader held him through it, not yet complaining that he was leaning his entire weight on his leg. But Fett didn’t push his luck, and was first to move away. Once he was sitting further on the table, Vader reached down and found a clean scrap of cloth in one of Fett’s pockets and used it to clean off Fett’s stomach, and then his own gloves, which were both a mess. He was about to pull up his trousers and look for his helmet, when Vader spoke.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Fett blinked. He didn’t want to say, but he knew exactly what Vader was asking about. “Naast?”

 

“You said that before, as well.”

 

“I did.” Fett acknowledged. “It’s a… term of respect. In mando’a it means _destroyer_.”

 

Vader hummed, a low sound, almost imperceptible. Fett looked away. He hadn’t expected Vader to ask him that, hadn’t expected him to care what foreign words he let slip.

 

“Why don’t you ever take off anything?” He asked then, to change the subject. He also pulled his clothes back on and slipped off the table. When Vader didn’t answer, he went on. “I guess there must be something appealing about having me all wrecked like that while you… remain poised.”

 

“I cannot.” Vader grumbled.

 

“Yeah that’s what you said, but…”

 

“I have burns.” Vader said lowly. “My entire body.”

 

 _Ah_ , there it was. Fett hadn’t been expecting that, precisely, but he knew there had to be something in the way.

 

“And… you think that’s a deal-breaker?”

 

Vader simply stared at him in silence.

 

“I wouldn’t mind. I don’t really care what you look like. It’s more… the way you are.”

 

“The way I am.” Vader repeated in a flat tone of voice.

 

“Yeah, you know, your presence or something.”

 

“Hm. Perhaps.” Vader hummed, enigmatically.

 

Fett gave a small grin. Maybe they were getting somewhere. “Think on it.” He said, then pulled his gloves and helmet back on. He retrieved the bottle of lube, which had rolled away under the table, and stored that safely in his belt. Then, with his crate of credits under his arm, he gave one final nod to the Dark Lord.

 

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

 

There was a hitch in Vader’s breathing pattern then, and as he left he wondered if that might be the Sith’s version of a laugh.

.

.

.

.

It became an almost regular thing after some of Fett’s jobs, for Vader to jerk him off quickly, sometimes in his quarters, other times in a shuttle and once, even, inside _Slave I_. He sometimes used the Force on him too, like the first time, when he really wanted to it to be fast. Fett never lasted long against that.

 

But it had been months of the same thing, and Vader had never once removed an article of clothing. Fett had given up on trying to reciprocate, thinking at this point that Vader probably didn’t want it. Maybe he had vows, like the Jedi had. Did this – what they were doing – count as betraying them? Fett didn’t know. Maybe there was a loophole Vader was exploiting. But it wasn’t like anyone but Fett would know, so still it puzzled him to no end.

 

This was one such occasion, and Fett was presently distracted from any thought of why Vader didn’t want anything, namely by the fingers inside his arse and his mouth. Vader was sitting this time, and Fett straddled him, holding himself with both hands on the Sith Lord’s shoulders.

 

Something different happened, then. Fett felt something in his head, like he wasn’t alone. He could feel sensations that weren’t his – power, he felt powerful – tightness against his hand, an almost painful erection trapped against fabric – he briefly saw his own face, twisted in pleasure, and felt desire shoot through him –

 

He opened his eyes and stared down at Vader, stopping all movement, and pushing the hand out of his mouth.

 

“What was that? What did you do?” He realised he sounded almost accusatory, but the intrusion had been surprising and overwhelming. Vader didn’t answer. Annoyed, Fett pressed further; “Was that the Force? Were you… in my head?”

 

“It was not fully intentional.”

 

“What does _that_ mean? Are you saying, you lost control?”

 

“Our minds briefly connected.” Vader said, avoiding the question.

 

“So what I felt – that was you?”

 

“What did you feel?” Vader asked, and he rested his hands on Fett’s hips.

 

“I felt strong.” He said without thinking, and ducked his head. A sigh escaped him. “Much stronger. And… You were hard.” He cocked his head at Vader. “I knew it.”

 

“You don’t know anything.” Vader said, and he made a move like he wanted to get up.

 

“You want me.” Fett told him, trying to hide his smirk.

 

“I cannot.” Vader said, for the umpteenth time, and he sounded weary.

 

Fett crossed his arms and leant back a little. “What are you afraid of?”

 

At once Vader’s hand went to the back of his neck, and Fett was pulled forward until his nose was a hair’s distance from the triangular form of Vader’s jaw.

 

“Do not forget what I am.” Vader growled, and Fett swallowed hard. Unbeknownst to Vader, his threat was having quite the opposite of its intended effect. He nodded though, and was released after a few seconds. He massaged his neck, grumbling.

 

“I haven’t forgotten.” He said carefully. “Just telling you what I felt. You wanted me so badly. I’m here. You can have me.” They stared at each other for a long moment, silent understanding passing through them. His hands slowly went to Vader’s belt, toying with the top of his codpiece and, for the first time, the Sith did not stop him.

 

Emboldened, Fett fumbled with the belt for a moment, mindful of the buttons, but finally got it open. He realised he was holding his breath, but he couldn’t start breathing normally again, not until he was sure Vader wouldn’t change his mind. The codpiece loosened, and he was able to push away all the fabric; the padded suit he wore under his armour, and – by all the stars, Darth Vader’s kriffing underwear – until finally he got him free.

 

It was more or less as he’d expected. Vader hadn’t exaggerated when he said he’d been burned all over his body. It was healed though, old wounds, but they looked like they must have been very painful. The part of his stomach and thighs Fett could see were much the same, marred with scarred and welted skin. He forced himself to stop staring, and looked up shyly at Vader’s face again.

 

He could think of a few things to say, but none of them seemed appropriate, so he just gave a small smile. “Let me?”

 

Vader growled low in his throat, but Fett wasn’t impressed. He took Vader in his hand and pumped him carefully a few times to bring him to full hardness. Then he tried to reach for the bottle of lubricant, but it had fallen too far away on the couch, so Vader grabbed it for him. Fett spread it over Vader slowly, all the while keeping his eyes on those soulless eye sockets of his.

 

“I could do you like this but… I said I’d let you have me.” He stopped moving his hand, and Vader’s leg twitched under him.

 

“Then get on with it.” The Sith said.

 

Fett barked a laugh, but obeyed. One of his hands went behind him, where he continued to stretch himself, while his other resumed its ministrations. He could practically feel Vader’s impatience rolling off him like waves though, so he squeezed one last amount of lube onto him, and then positioned himself.

 

He took a second to marvel and thank whatever stars there were for this to finally be happening, and lowered himself onto Vader’s cock. He made a hissing sound that ended in a groan, and had to steady himself on Vader’s shoulders again for just a moment. Vader himself made no noise, but that may have been because his modulator didn’t pick it up. Fett intended to get at least a moan out of him before this was over, so he pushed himself up and came back down again heavily, once, then twice, before stopping and relishing in the sensation of fullness, undulating his hips, teasing.

 

But Vader didn’t take the bait, remaining still. Fett smirked again, then started to move, picking up a nice rhythm. He fucked himself with long, languid strokes, his eyes still on Vader’s mask and his mouth slightly open.

 

“I’ve thought of this,” he admitted. “Thought of you, like this. When I first saw you I knew – I knew I’d let you take me, if you wanted to – Let you do whatever you wanted to me – I bet you haven’t done this in a long time – You feel so good, so good –”

 

“Quiet, Fett.” Vader grumbled, turning his head to the side, as though unable to look at him anymore. His hands were on Fett’s hips though, and he could feel those powerful thighs working beneath him, so he only smiled more. Had he embarrassed the great Lord Vader?

 

“As you wish,” Fett sighed, and picked up the pace. One of Vader’s hands placed itself in the small of his back, holding him firm as slowly, slowly, Vader’s hips began to move too.

 

Astonished, and more than a little full of himself, Fett met him head-on, and let himself be fucked thoroughly in short, shallow thrusts now. He had to struggle to keep his eyes open and on Vader, staring at the frightful mask, the face that was so feared throughout the galaxy, the man he now had before him with his defences down; not exactly vulnerable, but exposed.

 

He longed to keep talking but he obeyed the earlier order, reflecting that he’d already pushed his luck further than he’d thought possible tonight. It would not do to ruin the moment.

 

He fell against Vader’s shoulder, unable to hold himself up anymore, nestling his face under the Sith’s chin and moving his body desperately now, in uneven strokes, panting and sighing. His hands went to his own cock, which had gone ignored for too long now, and he stroked himself messily to match.

 

The Sith was still silent, both hands around Fett’s waist.

 

Determined, Fett ground his arse down as hard as he could. He had an urge to put his mouth somewhere, but there was nothing on Vader he could kiss, and he didn’t dare touch his mask – that was one thing he knew implicitly he was not allowed to do. So he kept his head down and concentrated on the feeling of Vader inside him, and on his rapidly approaching climax. He wanted Vader to come first though, he wanted to feel him lose himself.

 

It wasn’t too long now. A few more wild thrusts and he felt Vader come within him, and then, a sound. It wasn’t a moan exactly, but Vader made one broken, rasping sound that had Fett tumbling over the edge, too. He came on his own stomach, and had the presence of mind to keep fucking himself on Vader, to keep up some semblance of a rhythm. He shivered bodily, seeing white, and breathed hard against Vader’s armour.

 

They held each other like that for a minute, their identities almost forgotten, unimportant.

 

Until Fett sat up again, wiping sweat from his face. Vader had gone still, so Fett reached for his belt and found a clean piece of cloth to wipe them with. He carefully pulled himself off Vader’s softened member, and found himself dripping with his seed. The thought was almost enough to make him hard again.

 

He disembarked completely so as not to spill anything on the Sith’s black robes or cape, and cleaned himself off as best he could. He offered Vader a clean corner of the cloth, but he didn’t take it. They were in his quarters after all, Fett figured he would clean himself off alone afterwards. When he looked up again Vader had already tucked himself back into his clothing, and he looked the same as ever. No one would ever guess what he had just been up to. Fett on the other hand felt completely spent, and was sure he looked it, too.

 

He pulled his own trousers back up, and sighed. “Wasn’t so bad was it?”

 

Vader stood. “It was acceptable.”

 

Fett laughed again, knowing that was as much praise for this he would ever get. He picked up stray parts of his outfit, fixing them back into place, and found his helmet on the other side of the room, behind the second couch. He didn’t remember throwing it that far away.

 

“Well then, I hope I continue to be _acceptable_ in the future.” He said, looking back at the Sith with a grin he could not see. He knew it must be apparent in his voice, though. He hoisted the crate containing his credits for this day’s work under his arm, and nodded. “Until next time.”

 

Vader hummed, even less talkative than usual suddenly. Fett was pleased at this loss of words, at the thought that this was because of him.

 

“Next time, bounty hunter.” Was all Vader said, and he opened the door for him.

 

But it was a promise, and Fett stepped out with a grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with me! This chapter was quite long I know (6,300 words) but I couldn't separate it. Anyway thanks for reading!!


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